


Collared

by wildamongwolves, wolfflock (Hun__Sher)



Series: Sterek BDSM stories [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, BDSM, Casual Use, Collars, Coming In Pants, Dirty Talk, Dom Derek Hale, Dom/sub, Dry Humping, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, Future Fic, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Ownership, Possessive Derek, Praise Kink, Stiles Stilinski is a Tease, Sub Stiles Stilinski, throat-fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:54:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27385264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildamongwolves/pseuds/wildamongwolves, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hun__Sher/pseuds/wolfflock
Summary: “I already have one,” Stiles looks at him, blush receding.“But that’s for playing. I want one that you could wear during the day. How would you feel about that?” Derek asks, stretching his arm across the back of the couch to run his fingers over the back of Stiles’ neck and squeeze.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Sterek BDSM stories [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2021186
Comments: 22
Kudos: 316
Collections: Sterek Reverse Quickie 2020





	Collared

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collaborative work for the Sterek Reverse Quickie 2020, fic written by [wolfflock](https://wolfflock.tumblr.com), based on [wildamongwolves' amazing (and a tiny bit NSFW) art](https://wildamongwolves.tumblr.com/image/633862297967886336). I hope you guys love it as much as I do, because her commission is just **beautiful**. (*__*)

_Derek didn't think it would take this long._

When he had started dating Stiles, after the ragtag team of teenagers started college, it quickly became obvious that Stiles and Derek had a lot of things in common. There was the mutual attraction to the supernatural world and its lore; then there was their affinity to spend hours talking about the meaning of life, death, the afterlife; they also bought books with the same frequency as others bought toilet paper. Derek’s loft started to resemble a library more and more with every passing month. 

And then there was the sex. Not just in that they both were highly sexual creatures, aided by both their age and their more-than-human natures, but in their tastes, too. They complement each other; Derek’s dominant side to Stiles’ sweet submissiveness. Judging by their day to day interactions, no one would guess that Stiles could be compelled to drop to his knees by one hard look and a sternly spoken word. But that’s the beauty of it, that it’s Derek, and only Derek, who gets to see this side of Stiles; the eagerness to please his master, to be _good_ for him, to obey and follow orders. Outside of the bedroom they fight and bicker, Stiles challenging Derek, his decisions and authority, every chance he gets. It never bothers Derek, he is perfectly capable of reducing Stiles to one-syllable utterances between the walls of their home, and he’s content to have the upper hand there. To the outside world, Stiles is his equal, the one who always pushes him to want more and do better. To the two of them, when they play, Stiles is the one who willingly hands all decisions and power over to Derek to do as he wants, trusting Derek’s decisions as much as he questions them in front of everybody else. 

So it feels natural when, after one grueling day of tedious work and averting supernatural disasters, Derek places his laptop on Stiles’ folded legs, sitting down next to him on the couch.

“What’s that for?” Stiles asks as he gestures at the laptop.

“I want to buy you a collar,” Derek says, now comfortable with the directness of it, having spent months on voicing his feelings, just so in return Stiles could feel safe sharing his own.

Stiles blushes, still somewhat shocked by how easy it comes to Derek now, mixing talking about sex and kink with the mundane flow of everyday life.

“I already have one,” Stiles looks at him, blush receding.

“But that’s for playing. I want one that you could wear during the day. How would you feel about that?” Derek asks, stretching his arm across the back of the couch to run his fingers over the back of Stiles’ neck and squeeze.

Stiles swallows hard and seems to run the idea around in his head.

“Depending on the design, I would love that,” he whispers and looks up at Derek with a small smile playing on his lips. Derek knows Stiles loves it when he’s acting possessive in front of other people. Small gestures like snaking his hand up Stiles’ back to rest it on his shoulder while they’re in town and bump into an old school friend. Or when he kisses him hard in front of his coworkers when Derek drops him off at work. 

Sure enough, he can already feel Stiles’ skin getting warm under his fingertips, the smell of his arousal rising from a slow simmer to a steady flow.

“Let’s find one, then,” Derek says and opens the laptop in Stiles’ lap.

Derek is mesmerized, once again, by Stiles’ fingers rapidly flying across the keyboard as he opens up tab after tab, browsing countless sites simultaneously. Derek tunes out, letting Stiles do what he’s better at, anyway, and watches the boy’s face instead. His eyebrows drawn together in concentration, his tongue poking out periodically as he seems to contemplate certain designs. He shows a few of them to Derek, who tells him his opinion, but he’s content letting Stiles make the decision himself and then ask for Derek’s approval. It’ll be him wearing the collar so Derek wants him to feel comfortable with his choice. The design doesn’t matter as much to Derek as the eagerness he can see in Stiles right now, or the knowledge that he will be wearing the physical manifestation of his devotion and dedication to Derek.

After more than half an hour, Stiles gasps, freezes and whispers “Oh, my God.” [_That’s the one_](https://i.etsystatic.com/8667659/r/il/0dacff/1969457150/il_794xN.1969457150_49qh.jpg), Derek thinks, and looks over to the screen.

A pleased groan rumbles in his chest when he sees what Stiles is looking at, completely mesmerized and already in love.

“That is gorgeous,” Derek agrees, moving his hand from the nape of Stiles neck to his throat. “You would look breathtaking with that around your neck,” he confesses, squeezing Stiles’ neck a little and leaning close to nibble on the soft skin.

Stiles shivers on a sharp exhale as he leans into the caress. His eyes stay glued to the screen, though, as he absorbs even the smallest details. After a few moments, a displeased grunt escapes him which draws Derek’s attention back from his administration of marks on the pale skin of Stiles’ neck.

“What is it, baby?” he asks, and looks at the screen.

“The… price of this, Jesus,” Stiles grumbles, sounding defeated.

Derek takes a look and sure, it’s not cheap but he wouldn’t have a problem paying that much for it.

“You are worth that much and more, Stiles,” he admits, and delights in the way Stiles’ cheeks turn red once again. “Go ahead and place an order. I want you to have it,” he tells him, but his attention is already back to Stiles’ neck, kissing, nipping and licking his sensitive flesh.

Stiles types in the details needed for the purchase, takes Derek’s phone from the coffee table to pay for it, and hits send. The phone vibrates with the incoming notification for a successful transfer, which has Stiles releasing a breath he seems to have been holding in.

Derek, having been more than patient, closes the laptop, puts it on the table next to the phone and then pushes Stiles down on the cushions to finish what he started, devouring Stiles who happily goes along with whatever Derek wants.

~x~

A week passes, and the parcel still hasn’t arrived. _Derek didn't think it would take this long._ Sure, it’s handmade to Stiles’ specifications, but the waiting is killing them both. With every passing day, Derek’s wolf is getting more and more agitated to publicly claim its mate. Derek tries to keep it under control but sometimes he doesn’t want to. That’s when he walks up to Stiles who’s working on his laptop, lying on the bed with the device in front of him, and takes him. Stiles barely reacts, which turns Derek on even more; the trust Stiles places in Derek’s hands, feeling perfectly safe just letting Derek lick him open, thrust his fingers in and out until he’s loose enough for Derek to slide in and just chase his release.

Sometimes Derek likes to drag it out, indulging in the rise of Stiles’ arousal, how, even though Stiles tries to focus on whatever he’s doing, his body is reacting to Derek’s touches. There are times when Stiles pushes the laptop away and just puts his head on the cradle of his arms and sinks into his safe place where he’s floating in the feeling of Derek _in_ him and _around_ him, protected, cared for and _loved_. Derek takes what is offered, on a silver platter in the shape of Stiles’ heart, and relishes in it. He takes, and only gives back when Stiles asks him to, turning around and breathing a broken little _“Please.”_

By now, Derek is well-versed in what Stiles needs, and a few well-placed thrusts and grinding of his hips have Stiles shuddering as his climax rips through his body, the tightening of his ass pulling Derek over the edge right after him. Derek likes to stay like that, basking in their scents mixing, Stiles’ heartbeat returning to normal as he sighs, sated, pliant, dozing off. Derek gently pulls out, cleans Stiles with a wet towel, and covers his boy’s tempting naked buttocks with a clean pair of boxers. 

When the parcel is finally delivered, it’s 15 days after the order has been placed. Stiles’ fingers itch and twitch with the _need_ to open the box, but Derek doesn’t let him. He can wait another night, Derek says and watches, amused, as Stiles spends the whole night practically vibrating with uncontained excitement. Derek isn’t even surprised by the urge to take him apart and put him back together that night, and he doesn’t try to fight it.

The next morning Stiles spends half an hour standing in front of the full-length mirror of their bedroom, trying to find the perfect outfit that would show off his collar. He is still strung tight with nervous excitement, but relaxes immediately as Derek steps closer to him from behind, the box in his hand. He gives it to Stiles and immediately slides his hands inside Stiles’ front pockets. If he steals a teasing touch at Stiles’ soft cock, no one can blame him; he is just as excited as Stiles is, maybe a bit better at hiding it.

Stiles carefully opens the package, eyes wide in awe, and runs a gentle finger over the delicate flowers as if he’s too afraid of breaking it. Derek places a kiss on his neck and steps back.

“Turn around, baby. Let me put it on you.”

Stiles turns around and holds the box out for Derek, then drops to his knees and closes his eyes, waiting for Derek’s touch.

Derek runs his hand through Stiles’ soft hair and with a finger under his chin, lifts Stiles’ head.

“Look at me, baby. I want to see your beautiful eyes when I lock my collar around your neck.”

Stiles shivers as he obeys, staring into Derek’s eyes. His breath hitches as he sees Derek’s irises bleed flaming red. As the clasp closes with a gentle sound, their combined panting is the only thing that fills the charged silence of the room. Derek caresses Stiles’ face with his thumb, letting it follow the line of his cheekbones, down to his lips, his jawline, the side of his neck, and finally reaching the token of his ownership sitting snugly around his boy’s throat. Stiles’ breath catches on a moan and Derek can see a single tear running down his cheek.

All composure shattered by the open and vulnerable look on Stiles’ face, he hauls Stiles up by the collar of his flannel shirt and claims him in a different way, starting with his lips and finishing with his cock. The salty tang of Stiles’ tears is quickly replaced by the scent of his lust, his cum, and finally, his joy and utter devotion.

Derek struggles when they need to part ways to go about their days, everything seeming dull in comparison to the bright technicolor of Stiles with Derek’s collar around his neck going to work, talking to people, doing shopping for the pack event that night. His wolf is both ecstatic and desperate to prove again and again who the gorgeous creature with the silver and gold collar belongs to. The hours go by with glacial speed, but as soon as the clock hits 5pm, he’s out of his office and heading home. The loft is empty when he gets there, Stiles still out buying everything they need to entertain guests. 

It takes every ounce of self-control Derek has not to jump Stiles as soon as he walks through the door. He manages to hold back, barely, as he keeps replaying the scene he planned for tonight, when he gets his boy all for himself. He can’t help himself, though, when Stiles walks up to kiss him, and his hands fly to the new collar on autopilot, tracing its patterns as he kisses Stiles so deeply that he stumbles backwards, dazed, when the kiss breaks.

The pack arrives not much later, though, filling the big space with a whirlwind of scents, emotions and noises. As Stiles walks out of the kitchen, everyone seems to look at him with their heads tilted and cogs whirring.

“Dude, what’s that?” Scott asks, never subtle in his confusion, as he points at Stiles’ neck.

“Oh this?” Stiles reaches up to run a finger over it. Derek bites the inside of his cheek to keep his traitorous emotions in check. “You like my new bling?” He flashes a shit eating grin at Scott and Derek has to roll his eyes. Trust Stiles to call it that.

“I mean… yeah?” Scott scratches his head and looks uncertain.

“When did you get it?” Erica asks, moving into Stiles’ personal space, hand automatically reaching out to touch it. Derek braces himself, feeling his wolf growl possessively, but the noise doesn’t leave his chest as Stiles swiftly and surprisingly subtly turns around and moves out of reach.

“It arrived yesterday,” he says, waving at the delivery box standing by the bin. “It’s silver and gold. Fancy, huh?” And with that, he sends a shy sideways glance towards Derek, whose wolf preens at the praise.

“Looks a bit… snug,” Isaac pokes his head around Erica’s shoulder to look at it. “Is it comfortable?”

“Sure is,” Stiles replies, and with a deliberately unhurried motion of his hand slips two fingers underneath it. Derek knows he’s being tested, Stiles doing his level best to tease him. It’s Stiles’ way of pushing his boundaries, the brat, set on coaxing a reaction out of Derek. He just grits his teeth and takes a few calming breaths. He can do this, he can wait until everyone leaves and _then_ take what is his.

“Did we miss a birthday or something?” Boyd asks. “That looks like a present.”

“Oh it _was_ ,” winks Stiles, the _goddamn tease_ , “but don’t I deserve a present without any special occasions?”

“You… really don’t want an answer to that,” Lydia groans as she rolls her eyes. This seems to settle the case, the pack members moving around the living room to claim the best seats before they start the movie.

As soon as he sits down next to Stiles, Derek’s hand wraps around the boy’s wrist possessively, drawing small circles into his skin. Halfway through the movie he needs to start breathing through his mouth because the strong scent of Stiles’ arousal is making his head spin and his resolve crumble. He squeezes Stiles’ arm in warning but the boy is looking at him in confusion, unaware of the emotions he’s projecting. When he turns back to the TV, his fingers fly to the collar and absentmindedly play with it; Derek just hopes that the others aren’t too offended by _his_ arousal slowly filling the loft.

The wait until the movie ends and Derek can kick everyone out without seeming like a dick is excruciating, but he holds it together by sheer force of will and meditative breathing. He loses some of his composure when, after the credits, the pack members start chit chatting, oblivious to the torture Derek is going through. 

He would feel bad in any other situation but he is at his wits’ end as he makes a show of stretching, yawning and trying to look tired.

Isaac, ever the perceptive one, slowly looks around, eye resting on Derek, then on Stiles who is curled up, playing along with Derek, pretending to be dozing off.

“It’s getting late,” he says, pulling Lydia to her feet, “we should head home. Some of us have lectures tomorrow,” he finishes, staring at Erica, trying to get his meaning across.

“Yeah, totally,” Erica agrees, standing slowly, stretching and popping her back.

“Scott,” Isaac calls, “Could you drop me off?”

“Yeah, sure,” Scott replies and gets up, too. That starts a cascade of movements, everyone slowly picking up discarded sweaters, scarves and shoes, heading to the door. 

Derek wraps his arm around Stiles’ hips as they walk the others out, waving goodbye as they all slowly leave. The elevator doors are barely shut when Derek lifts Stiles up with supernatural strength and pins him against the wall.

“You… are such a tease,” he growls as he buries his head in the crook of Stiles neck, mouthing at skin and metal in equal measure. 

“I have absolutely no idea what you mean,” Stiles counters, aiming for nonchalance that is belied by the wanton yip when Derek bites his skin.

“Liar,” Derek hisses as he pulls back to look Stiles in the eye. “You’ve been playing with that collar all night, sending me bedroom eyes, taking every damn chance to turn everything into an innuendo.”

Derek acts like he’s mad but he knows Stiles can see through him; he loves it that Stiles can wind him up like this.

“Oh?” Stiles asks, mocking innocence. “And did it work, big guy?”

With a snarl, Derek pulls away and in a flash of movement pushes Stiles to his knees, yanking the boy’s face straight into his groin.

“I don’t know, baby boy, you tell me. Did it work?”

Stiles moans at the sudden change in pace, his hands flying to the small of his back on their own accord, as he starts slipping into a different headspace.

“Yes, Sir, it definitely worked,” he whispers as he presses his face closer to the outline of Derek’s erection, snuggling his cheek against it.

Derek’s fingers find their way into the soft tuft of Stiles’ hair, holding his head in place. 

“You’re lucky I like you being bratty, otherwise you would be punished for behaving like that,” he admonishes, and yanks Stiles’ head back to look him in the eye. “Brats like you deserve to be put in their place, don’t you think, boy?”

Stiles’ pink tongue peeks out from between his full lips as he wets them, his cheeks coloring a pretty red by Derek’s chastising. 

“Yes, Sir,” he breathes, his eyes closing. “Please, show me my place.”

That hits Derek’s resolve straight in the middle, cracking the stone walls pulled high around his wolf that is pacing impatiently, ready to chase down what’s _his_.

“Your place is right here on your knees, in front of me,” Derek admits, his free hand working shakily to open his belt buckle and his jeans. “You already know what we’ll be doing tonight, don’t you, pet? With that sharp brain of yours, I’m sure you’ve got it all figured out.”

Despite the tight grip in his hair, Stiles nods enthusiastically, looking up at Derek.

“Yes, Sir. You want to show me what my mouth _really_ _is_ for,” he confesses and shifts his knees a bit wider.

“That’s right, baby boy, I’m going to use that pretty mouth of yours, making sure the only words coming out of it will be _please_ and _Sir_.” Derek moves one of his feet and drags it across the shape of Stiles’ erection, still hidden in the confines of his jeans. Stiles whimpers and his breath catches at the contact.

“Do you like the sound of that, baby?” Derek asks, still massaging Stiles’ cock with his toes.

“ _Fuck_ … Yes, yes, I do, Sir. Please,” Stiles whines as he fights hard to stay as still as possible and be a good boy for Derek, but the flexing of his muscles is a tell-tale sign that Stiles is fighting hard to follow the rules.

“Use your teeth, then, to pull my underwear down. Let’s see what you find there.” He pulls Stiles’ head closer to his groin, positioning him closer to the band of his underwear. Stiles, having learnt it the hard way that pulling on Derek’s pubic hair with his teeth means being denied for hours, carefully tugs down the material, his lips and nose brushing over Derek’s erection, eliciting a moan from the werewolf.

When the fabric is out of the way, Derek’s erection is inches away from Stiles’ face; he knows better than to touch without permission so he looks up at Derek, waiting.

Derek’s hand moves from Stiles’ hair to his lips and he pushes his thumb between them.

“That’s it, baby, open up for me, nice and wide.” Stiles obeys, his jaw going lax. “I’m going to fuck your throat so relax for me, baby.”

Stiles moans, his eyes slipping shut as he relaxes even more, ready to take whatever Derek is giving him. Derek’s free hand comes to the side of Stiles’ head and slowly runs down his neck to grab the collar. Stiles groans loudly and his eyes snap open, staring straight into Derek’s eyes.

Derek moves forward and that’s all the indication Stiles needs to lean forward and let Derek’s cock slide past the gates of his open lips. Derek’s legs shake as he slowly pulls back to then slide in even deeper. 

He loves teasing Stiles like this, with unpredictable thrusts; a shallow one at one moment then sliding in all the way until his cock hits the back of his boy’s throat.

“Relax, baby,” Derek whispers, his thumb caressing Stiles’ cheek. “Take me all the way in.”

Stiles moves his head some, changing the angle so it allows him to do what Derek asked of him. After he takes a deep breath, Derek pushes forward and can feel Stiles’ body shake as his body tries to fight the intrusion.

“Don’t fight it, just let it happen. That’s it, baby boy, you’re doing so well for me,” Derek praises and Stiles responds by going still.

After a second, Derek starts moving, pulling out to fuck back in, forcing Stiles’ throat to relax more every time he pushes in. The wet sounds of Stiles’ throat drive Derek closer to his release but he focuses on making this last.

As Stiles’ eyes start to water and his body starts convulsing, Derek pulls back enough to let his boy breathe. When his breathing goes back to normal, Derek sets a fast pace, fucking his mouth with practiced thrusts.

“Is this what you wanted with all that teasing, boy? You wanted me to use your throat like this? I know you love being a good boy for me, kneeling with your hands behind your back and just taking my cock like you were born for it. Yeah, that’s it, baby, open your throat,” he groans as he pushes in once again, “let me show you what your smart mouth will get you. Your throat fucked hard while wearing my collar. Fuck, so _beautiful_.”

Derek’s breathing is getting more aborted but he can’t keep the litany of dirty words from pouring out from between his fangs.

“I’m going to cum on your face, baby boy. I want to mark you with my scent so anyone who comes close enough will know who you belong to, even if they don’t know what that collar around your neck means.”

Stiles responds with broken moans and little whimpers, his face covered in tears, saliva and pre-cum. He looks gorgeous like this, floating in his own world where only Derek can send him. That possessive thought makes Derek’s wolf howl, and a couple of hard thrusts later Derek is yanking Stiles face back, leaving a ribbon of saliva and pre-cum trailing the growing distance between his lips and the head of Derek’s cock.

“Please, Sir, I want your cum. _Please_ ,” the boy begs, his voice rough, raw and used; utterly breathtaking. The pleading look he sends Derek, coupled with a few hard tugs of his hand pushes Derek over the edge and with a grunt he paints Stiles’ open mouth, dark eyelashes and red cheeks with his cum. The boy groans as he swipes his tongue over his lips to catch a taste of Derek.

“Fuck, baby boy, you are so fucking beautiful,” Derek moans as he pulls Stiles up, pins him to the wall, his body flush against the boy’s, and buries his face in Stiles’ neck, marking him with human teeth. His hand clasps around the collar, tightening slightly as Stiles moans loudly and desperately.

“Hump my leg, pet. I want to see you cum,” he growls and Stiles’ hands immediately circle around his biceps as he moves against Derek’s thigh, whimpering and sobbing, chasing his release. It doesn’t take long, not with the way Derek is biting his neck, and a few moments later Stiles’ head falls back against the wall as he cums with a broken-off wail.

“That’s my good boy,” Derek praises as he licks at the hickies coming to life on Stiles’ neck, just over the collar. “You were so good for me, taking my cock like that.”

Stiles groans, weak and spent, his muscles losing tension, his body melting into Derek’s arms.

“Holy _fuck_ … You broke me,” he giggles as Derek lifts him off his feet, heading towards the bathroom. “I can’t feel my _limbs_!”

“Yet you’re talking already, so I clearly didn’t do it right,” Derek shoots back, shaking Stiles in his arms as the boy pulls himself closer, smothering his laugh in Derek’s neck.


End file.
